


Not My Memory

by Kalira



Series: Kuro Week 2017 [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Keith/Kuro/Shiro is open to interpretation/implied), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Insomnia, Kuro Week 2017, M/M, Memory, Multi, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Torture (remembered/nightmares)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Kuro's head is full of memories that don't belong to him.





	Not My Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kuro Week](http://kuroweek.tumblr.com/), Day 2 - ~~Identity/~~ Memory.

_“Track him, Kuro! Bring back our wayward Champion!” Haggar ordered._

_Kuro’s shoulders tensed at the command, but when she pointed, he took off after Shiro, grimacing. The other man was shaking, but he was still running full-tilt to escape, heading towards the loud disturbance - shooting, crashing, metal ripping - that was probably one of the Voltron Lions coming for him. At least one of them._

_Shiro was running hard . . . but he was shaking and falling to pieces and Kuro was possibly even stronger than he was. Kuro caught him._

_Haggar would be on his heels, waiting to take charge of Shiro, Kuro knew, looking down at Shiro - at the original he had been **copied** from, improved from. . ._

_Shiro was panting and shaking, his eyes wide, blood smeared over his cheek from the light scratches he’d taken on his way down under Kuro’s attack. Kuro felt a little shaky himself, adrenaline pulsing through him, But he couldn’t-_

_He **couldn’t** -_

_“Get up!” Kuro hissed, dropping to one knee beside Shiro and grabbing his arm, careless of the energy that could flood it and burn into him - through him. “Get up, **get up** , she’s coming!” he ordered, dragging at Shiro, pulling him up. “You have to get **out** of here!”_

_“. . .what?” Shiro asked, voice thready._

_“ **Shiro!** ”_

_Kuro closed his eyes for a moment, filled with relief. He knew that voice. Shiro would be safe. “Take him! Get out of here! He **has** to get out of here, the witch is coming!” he told Keith, who watched him with a wariness that pricked at his heart._

_Keith sheathed his bayard, though, and reached for Shiro, steadying him. Shiro clung to his lover, and Kuro’s heart twisted as he watched them._

_“ **Go!** ” he ordered, glancing back, ears alert for the sound of Haggar coming after them. After him._

_“Wait. Keith wait.” Shiro said, and Kuro turned back to him with a hiss. “Come- You. . .” he hesitated, and Kuro twitched._

_“Shiro, love. . .” Keith’s voice was soft but urgent, and he tugged gently at Shiro, eyes intent on his face._

_“Don’t stay here with- with **her** controlling you.” Shiro said, eyes locked with Kuro’s. “Come- Come away with us. With me.” he offered, shocking Kuro. It was . . . almost a plea._

_“You would- But I-” Kuro took half a step back. They **couldn’t**. “You can’t trust me. You can’t **take** me.”_

_“Do you **want** to stay?” Keith asked, the question a harsh snap, and Kuro jerked._

_“I- No.” Kuro said weakly, and Keith grabbed his wrist, startling him. His hand was warm even through Kuro’s sleeve and his own armour._

_“Then **come on**. We have to get out of here. Red’s waiting.” he said, though Kuro thought it was probably more directed at Shiro._

_“Not patiently, it sounds like.” Shiro said, with a weak laugh._

_“As much as me.” Keith joked, though no smile curved his lips and his eyes were sharp and focused. Kuro moved to Shiro’s other side to help him as they ran for the chaos Keith’s Lion was evidently causing on its own._

_Haggar was on their heels, though, and when she yelled Kuro’s name again, commanding him, lightning sparking from her fingers - Kuro’s whole body twitched with remembered, **anticipated** pain. . ._

Kuro snapped awake just as the bolt of lightning Haggar threw hit his back, and he choked on a low scream of pain, twisting and curling onto his side as he tried to escape the remembered attack. He shook, burying his face against the bed and breathing deeply. Haggar wasn’t here, he wasn’t hurting, not in reality - not any more - he was safe on the Castle of Lions.

He had been for months. Every injury Haggar had dealt him was long healed. Kuro took deep breaths, still shaking, and swallowed down bile against the tight feeling in his throat. Tears pricked at his eyes.

He was alone, but that was no longer something purely to be desired. Alone meant no Haggar, no guards, no pain . . . but it also now meant no comfort, no family, no friends. . .

Kuro tried not to let his thoughts wander but a memory curled around him, softer and warmer than the other, the one he had dreamt again, and he couldn’t fight it down.

_Strong hands smoothed over him, gentle, the touch almost feathery, not harsh._

_“Love? Love, come on, look at me. . .” Keith coaxed, his voice soft and gentle, like almost no one ever got to hear it - no one but **him**. “You’re safe. You’re with me.” Keith promised, all but crooning, running his fingers through Kuro’s hair._

_Kuro whimpered and curled an arm around his lover, pressing his face to Keith’s stomach and clinging to him hard - trying to keep his cybernetic arm away from Keith._

_Keith reached out, though, the fingers of his left hand still buried in Kuro’s forelock, his right hand stroking over Kuro’s own. He petted Kuro’s knuckles lightly and then wove their fingers together, bringing his hand close. “Shh, love. It’s just you . . . and just me.”_

_Kuro whined and twitched, but didn’t pull away, despite his discomfort about the arm._

_Keith lightly kissed his fingertips and then moved Kuro’s hand to rest on his hip, releasing it and stroking his shoulders instead. “Breathe, love.” he instructed, and the soft words made it somehow easier to do so. “Love, you’re here with me, you’re not- You’re not back there, it can’t touch you any more.” Keith’s voice was harder with those words, protective though rather than harsh. It was comforting._

_Kuro shuddered and began to relax. “Keith. . . Baby I- I’m sorry.” he said, feeling guilty._

_“Don’t be, Shiro. I love you, I’m here.” Keith said, and his face reflected the same feeling offered in his words. A soft smile, an affectionate light in his eyes. A look that was given to **Shiro** , that was always there for Shiro and never for anyone else._

Kuro felt sick and he curled up tighter, clawed fingers raking through his own forelock and then back into shorter hair. It wasn’t his fear of the cybernetic hand and arm - he held none for it. It wasn’t his nightmare in that memory, being so lovingly soothed. It wasn’t _his_ comfort, it wasn’t _his_ lover.

It wasn’t his memory.

Kuro bared his fangs and screamed soundlessly, burying his face against the pillow, his whole body shaking with anger and pain and fear. It _wasn’t_ his to have, to remember, to take comfort in, and it never _would_ be - it didn’t belong to him and he shouldn’t-

Kuro shoved himself upright, folding forward over his knees, body tense. His breaths came raggedly and too quick, shaking his whole body, but he couldn’t quite . . . hold them back. He’d been fighting-

As though the nightmares weren’t enough, Kuro could not rid himself of Shiro’s memories, either. They mostly didn’t hurt him, not like his own did - even Shiro’s pain added to his own . . . Kuro shook and screamed and sickened at those memories, but he had many of his own that troubled him, too. He could handle more, and many of Shiro’s nightmares were akin to the ones he carried already.

It was the sweeter memories that hurt.

Shiro’s friends, Shiro’s triumphs; Shiro happy and laughing even when he was so stressed he was falling to pieces before his exams.

Keith comforting Shiro when he woke screaming - or painfully silent - from nightmares of the gladiatorial arena. Older memories; Keith flying with Shiro, laughing bright and loud, flying too fast, always too daring. Shiro’s heart racing as he watched Keith soar.

Shiro fighting - so much more clumsily than he would, one day; did, now - in a practise ring back on Earth; in a series of them, all closer to friendly bouts than _battles_. Instructors, fellow students, and most often . . . Keith. Small beside Shiro - even more then than he was now, though he was perhaps even leaner now, all fierce whipcord and grace - but pushing hard, keeping Shiro on his toes and beating him back consistently.

Keith slightly pink across the cheekbones but leaning up to kiss Shiro, hugging him hard, ordering him to come back, to be safe, promising him-

Promising him things that Kuro shouldn’t _know_ because they weren’t _his_ , even if he could hear the soft, almost husky voice in his mind. The memories worn soft and still so very clear. They were among those _Shiro_ clung to the most, for comfort and for hope, Kuro thought.

He shuddered, fingers flexing and digging deeper into the sheets, then pushed himself upright again and slid out of bed. Dressing quickly, Kuro forwent his boots and wandered out into the dimly-lit, quiet Castle.

It was no longer strange, but it was still worthy of appreciation to Kuro - the quiet and the solitude this offered, and the easy freedom to do so. It might be somewhat limited - Shiro’s memories from Earth flashed through his mind again, wide open spaces and the endless horizons of the desert Keith so loved - this Castle, but Kuro was free to do as he liked here, and did not feel constrained.

He paced the Castle, feeling the hum of energy beneath his feet as it flew, silent, through space. He found Pidge curled up in a corner, and gently nudged her to one side until she was no longer slumped with her neck at a painful-looking angle.

She didn’t wake, not surprising Kuro - it wasn’t the first time he’d found her thus - and he straightened and moved on, ghosting through two libraries, three observation decks, and the kitchen before he finally wound up in the training room. He’d half-known he was going to come here in the end, Kuro thought; it was a good place when he woke and needed to not return to his nightmares, and his night wanderings brought him here fairly often. Kuro took a deep breath and rolled his neck before he called up basic training equipment rather than a battle simulator.

Maybe if he focused on this for a while he would at least be doing something useful. There was always the chance he would numb his mind with it so much that he could sleep without nightmares afterwards . . . assuming he even returned to his bed tonight.

Kuro threw his first punch with enough force that his knuckles stung and the shockwave flowed clear up to his shoulder, which ached dully for a moment at the pressure. Good enough.

He lost himself in a simple rhythm of practise punches and kicks, breathing steady and deep, the quiet Castle humming all around him. It wasn’t until he heard the soft call of Hunk asking him to come to breakfast that he realised how long he’d spent there. Kuro rubbed his sore knuckles - they’d need to be taped up, probably, they were battered and ached dully - and stepped away. Hunk smiled tentatively, and Kuro dipped his head, obligingly following Hunk towards the kitchen.

Four nights later, Kuro was back in the training room, trying to drown out the searing pain in his memories with the burn of well-used - perhaps overworked - muscles.

He jerked when a soft, warm touch sliding over his wrist interrupted the steady tattoo of his blows, the throb of his pulse and the ache of his body. He didn’t swing around to redirect his punch, though, only stopped, shoulders sagging, head bowing forwards and almost coming to rest against the punching bag.

“Clearly this is where you should be, and not in bed.” Keith said, sharp and dry. His fingers were still curled around Kuro’s left wrist, though it was a light, easy clasp.

“I’m fine.” Kuro said, shaking his head.

Keith reached up, brushing his forelock out of his face - the hair stuck to the sweat on his brow - and Kuro closed his eyes. “I can see that.” Keith said, letting out a soft sigh.

“Go- I’m not Shiro.” Kuro said, voice thick as he forced the words out.

“I _can_ see that.” Keith said, snorting. His hand came up to Kuro’s jaw, pushing him to raise his head. “Did you think I’d mix you up? Forget who _you_ are?” he asked, tone almost gentle. His fingers _were_ gentle, sliding over Kuro’s cheek with the movement of his head as he obediently lifted it.

“I mean- I don’t need-” Kuro’s voice faltered before he could say ‘you’. “Go back to Shiro.” _Go back to your ‘love’_ , he thought, swallowing against the tightness in his throat.

“He’s not the only one concerned for you.” Shiro said, bigger hands coming to rest on Kuro’s shoulders as he jerked upright, spine straightening. “You need rest.”

“I’m functioning fine.” Kuro said, twisting a little and trying to get a subtle look at Shiro behind him.

“How many nights have you spent in here this week _instead_ of sleeping?” Keith asked, and Kuro opened his mouth, then paused. “Exactly. Come on,” he tugged gently but firmly at Kuro’s arm, drawing him towards the door with the help of a nudge from Shiro behind him, “you need to be somewhere you can actually rest.”

“Why are _you_ up, then?” Kuro asked, cocking his head, watching Keith.

Keith met his gaze squarely. “Because you are, and you apparently need someone to tell you when it’s time to sleep. Because _you need sleep_.” he said, his eyes steely.

“How did you know to find me here?” Kuro asked curiously, not quite following along as Keith tried to lead him towards the door, but not really fighting, either.

Keith glanced over Kuro’s shoulder and quirked a brow. “You’re not the _only_ one who does this.” He rolled his eyes, and Kuro looked around to see Shiro looking sheepish, even as he moved to stand at Kuro’s side rather than loom behind him. “ _Go to bed._ Honestly.” Keith snorted.

“Hey, I go to bed!” Shiro defended himself, frowning a little, though it didn’t reach his eyes fully and his arms were crossed but not firmly. “I sleep! I even sleep _in_ bed, and more than I used to lately. . .”

Keith crossed his arms as well, releasing Kuro, and pursed his lips slightly. “And how much of that is because _I’m_ there to drag you to bed? Or make sure you _stay there_?” he asked, with a flick of his eyebrows.

“All right.” Kuro said, a lump growing in his throat at the softness and ease between them. It was familiar, which stung, and he strangled it down with the other thoughts that had once again driven him to the training deck tonight. It wasn’t _his_. “I’m going.”

“And because you’re _there_.” Shiro said softly, playfulness easing into sincerity with a small smile and warm eyes.

“Good.” Keith replied, and it took Kuro a moment to realise that, and the smile that accompanied it, were directed at himself, not Shiro. He smiled awkwardly back.

He backed away, avoiding Shiro as well, and headed for the door on his own. He paused, remembering that he hadn’t- Shiro’s voice came behind him, dismissing the equipment Kuro had been using, and he started moving again.

Keith’s steps were so light he didn’t actually realise the other man was shadowing him until he turned, outside the door, and _saw_ him. Kuro paused. “I’m going.” he said, drawing a blank on what Keith wanted. “Uh. Good night?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “I’m going too.” he said, glancing sideways as Shiro joined them in the corridor, the lights on the training deck going down on their own behind him.

“Oh. Right.” Kuro realised he should have known; it was the middle of the night, of course they were going back to bed as well, now they’d sent him off. He felt a bitter pang at that, but pushed it away ruthlessly. _That_ wasn’t his place either. They’d come to see to him, he hadn’t expected _that_ , much less. . . Even if he hadn’t needed it. He would have been fine, as always.

Kuro shifted restlessly, not quite uncomfortable, as Shiro and Keith fell in and paced him on either side. They stayed there, keeping pace, even when they returned to the level where Kuro’s - and their own - rooms were. He frowned, confused, though he didn’t _mind_ having them boxing him between them, even if it-

Kuro realised they were _walking him back to bed_ and cringed internally. He would have gone, even without them watching him. _Maybe_ , he admitted to himself. And Keith had been very firm about it. He would have- They could have left once they got him to this level, at least.

_Maybe they’re going to lock you in to be sure you don’t wander_ said a voice in the back of his mind. Kuro quashed it without much difficulty - he knew by now that they trusted him. They _all_ did, now, even the Princess, and Hunk, who had been protectively suspicious of him for some time after he’d come aboard. The Castle of Lions wasn’t anything like the Galra ships where he had been ‘born’.

But they were treating him like a child, his memories told him; walking him to his room, his bed, and he flushed a little to think they thought he _needed_ it.

Keith leaned one shoulder against the wall beside the door to Kuro’s bunk, and Shiro rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to watch me to make sure I came, I _do_ understand.” Kuro said, trying to speak evenly. He _had_ been ignoring the fact, but they were right - he was going without sleep too much, and if it came to it eventually he would even be a liability in a battle, if it came to that.

He could be, anyway. Kuro could drive himself hard, and he _would_ , for himself - for his family. Eventually even he would falter, though.

“We weren’t just making sure you were being honest.” Keith said, with a slanted look that made Kuro shiver, made him think Keith _knew_ he’d been considering just wandering the Castle again, if not going back to the training deck once they left him.

Keith ducked through the door into his room, and Kuro frowned, looking at Shiro. He smiled, a soft, gentle expression, and nudged Kuro in after Keith, then followed at his heels. “Get comfortable.” Keith instructed, absently straightening Kuro’s bed like he _wasn’t_ about to get in it, under orders.

Comfortable. Kuro was tempted to strip off, as he usually would for sleep, and see if Keith wanted him to ‘get comfortable’ then. It _was_ comfortable. Kuro took full advantage of the fact that he no longer had to be on full alert at all times - that Haggar could never decide to walk in and drag him awake - and revelled indulgently in sleeping naked.

Shiro followed his gaze. “No one ever thinks _he’s_ the obsessively orderly one.” he said, lips curling slightly.

“He’s always such a mess, but most people don’t see him when he’s-” Kuro broke off, his small smile twisting and fading away. _He_ hadn’t seen Keith when he was in his own space, meditatively organising and indexing research materials and books, either. Shiro had.

Kuro flinched and kept silent, devoting more focus than was really required to removing his vest and shirt, startled when Shiro winced away after only a glance at him, gaze hitching at his chest. Kuro looked down at himself, then sideways at Shiro.

Kuro bore many of the same scars as Shiro did, of course - every one Shiro had borne before Kuro was made, and then more all his own - but he didn’t really think of them much. Shiro. . . Kuro frowned. Shiro was a different sort of creature, and he seemed to . . . care more about them.

And Kuro supposed the spiralling, stippled scar that stretched across more than half of his upper chest was pretty striking. It was one of his own. Solely Haggar’s work, not from the arena, and the day - days? Kuro wasn’t sure how long he’d been bound to Haggar’s table for that - he had gotten it was the feature of a number of Kuro’s screaming nightmares.

“Sleep works better if you get _in_ bed.” Keith said, his tone patient, if dry, and Kuro startled, looking up to meet Keith’s eyes. He was standing by Kuro’s bed, arms crossed. “Go on.” he added more gently, tipping his head towards the bunk.

Kuro sighed and obliged without looking back at Shiro, then startled when Shiro . . . moved across in front of him, sliding into his bed. Kuro paused, brows drawing together, and Keith’s hand settled between his shoulder blades, hot on bare skin, pushing lightly.

“What. . .” Kuro paused.

“It helps.” Shiro said softly, eyes downcast, drawing his knees up and folding his arms against them. “Not- Not being alone.” He looked up again. “It’s hard. And you haven’t been staying in bed much, have you?” Kuro shook his head mutely, still confused - shocked. “It’s been bad. So.”

“So here we are.” Keith said, nudging Kuro again. He complied under the encouragement without thinking, only to pause again immediately, with one knee on the bed, but Keith was already close behind him, climbing in himself, and Kuro moved towards Shiro to give him room. “Let us help you.”

Kuro wasn’t sure how much it was going to _help_ if they. . . But if they wanted to be here with him. . . Kuro swallowed, nodding, and when Shiro tugged at his arm he lay down obligingly, though he kept still rather than shift around to settle into a comfortable position. Keith drew a hand up and down his left arm, soothing - he relaxed before he knew it - and Shiro dimmed the lights. They didn’t crowd him, but they were warm and _present_ in his bed, the quiet breathing of two other people accompanying his own in the dark room.

If it had been anyone else, Kuro wasn’t sure he could have even come close to sleep - with them, it was . . . easier, even. He had countless nights of Shiro’s memories rich with Keith at his side in the dark, Shiro’s remembered comfort and ease there. And Shiro was close, had always been, since Kuro had first come to be, first woken and looked across the dimly-lit lab to meet anguished grey eyes in a face he knew to be _his_.

Kuro fell into sleep easily enough, but even with comfort, companionship . . . his memories were still there, waiting for him.

_Kuro arched against his restraints, screaming. Any impulse to hide the outward signs of his pain had gone what felt like days ago. His screams now came out hissing and rough, almost-silent - he was too weak, and his throat too bruised, to howl as the pain demanded._

_Even trying hurt, but that barely registered when the rest of his body was on fire with the agony of Haggar’s magic chasing through him._

_Haggar trailed her claws over his left shoulder, leaving a thin, branching tracery of burns down onto his arm. Kuro didn’t know if she was speaking to him or not, there was little meaning to be made of the mess his senses perceived now._

_Kuro barely even saw her moving, and hardly cared, until she touched him again and brought more pain._

_Her claws sank into his chest, both hands splayed wide, and his heart stuttered as they glowed purple, pouring through his skin and deep into his chest, hotter than fire and sharper than the lasers she used to peel away his flesh when she wanted to get inside him._

Kuro howled as he woke, shaking and unable to move, still feeling like he was pinned, strapped down there in Haggar’s workroom. He struggled to breathe, body singing with pain and mind fogged and tangled up with the terror and uncertainty of the nightmare - the memory.

A warm hand smoothed over his chest, but it was too small and too gentle to be Haggar’s. The fingertips trailed the edges of the biggest scar there, and there were no claws, only slim fingers and smooth calluses. It was a familiar touch, and-

And this time it was real, not a memory, Kuro realised.

He keened, closing his eyes again and turning over, burying his face in his pillow and stifling himself in it. His shoulders shook with rough sobs, and his throat ached as he tried to choke off his own cries.

The gentle hand combed through his forelock, and he sniffed, shuddering. _Shh, love, just you and me_ ran through his mind and Kuro cringed. It didn’t _belong_ to him. Not the endearment and not the reassurance. Whatever he remembered . . . and whatever he _wished_ , if he was honest, in the dark and the quiet, when he was alone.

“You’re safe. It’s all right.” Keith’s voice was a soft croon, but even as soothing as it was it pricked at Kuro because as . . . as sweet as it was, to be cared for like this - as sweet as it was to offer it . . . it wasn’t _for_ Kuro. He would-

He would rather not have the memories he did, and this was worse yet.

Kuro tried to pull away without releasing the pillow, but he was still clumsy and his body ached even if it was only remembered pain. Keith’s touch remained, light but confident.

“Here with you, babe. Just you . . . and just us.” Keith murmured, and Kuro’s breath caught. He shifted tentatively, withdrawing from the pillow enough to look up, and Keith was looking right back at him with a gentle, concerned smile. Even when he met Kuro’s golden eyes.

“We’re here.” Shiro added softly, a bigger hand joining Keith’s on his back, warm metal thrumming against his skin. Shiro shifted closer, his body warm and solid against Kuro’s left side.

Kuro crumpled and cried, and Shiro stilled uncertainly, but Keith didn’t pause. One small, strong hand curled under Kuro’s upper arm just above where the metal joined to his flesh and pulled at him. Kuro hissed, but the muscle aches were all in his mind, and the easy tug didn’t hurt, only brought him over until one shoulder was snug against Keith’s belly and his chest was cradled over Keith’s legs.

However fierce a fighter, Keith was so small, and regardless he would certainly be no match for the magic mistress . . . he shouldn’t, reasonably, have been so comforting.

Shiro folded around him, Shiro’s body shadowing his own, and gently nuzzled his shoulder as Keith petted his hair and held him close. “Breathe.” Keith murmured an instant before his breath hitched uncomfortably, and Kuro choked, sniffling. “Breathe, babe. It’s all right.” Keith soothed, leaning down and hugging him tighter across the shoulders as Shiro hummed softly behind him.

Between them, the two of them made a sheltering cocoon around Kuro, blocking out the rest of the world. Soft words and gentle touches - not just a memory, and comfort offered to _him_ , comfort that _belonged_ to him, not stolen or-

Kuro pressed his face a little tighter against Keith. “Hush.” Keith said quietly, his knuckles tickling just a bit as they brushed against Kuro’s throat, before he firmed his touch. Kuro shivered, trying to calm down.

Shiro stroked his back, long strokes that were just light enough to slide smoothly over his skin, but firm enough to press against muscle. Too real a touch to tune out or to have imagined. Keith’s fingers ruffled his hair, free hand resting low on his ribs.

Neither asked him what had troubled his sleep, only offered the comfort of their presence. Keith’s voice faded in and out, reassurances that filtered through the mess in Kuro’s head, the low, steady, so very _human_ murmur comforting even when he couldn’t hear it clearly enough over his own breathing and heartbeat to understand the words.

Comfortable and _safe_ between them, Kuro didn’t realise he’d started to share, in hitching fragments, pieces of his dream - his memory - until Shiro’s own breath hitched, a shudder running through him, and Keith’s fingers tightened at the nape of Kuro’s neck as he gave a low growl.

Kuro closed his mouth, jaw tight, but Keith lightly scritched his nape, a tender spot that Kuro had barely known he had, even with Shiro’s memories, and murmured a quiet encouragement. Shiro didn’t speak, but he slid a hand forwards to rest over Kuro’s heart for a moment, leaning closer.

Kuro’s voice cracked weakly as he spoke, and he shuddered, muscles twitching. He wasn’t sure how much sense he made, but they listened, and sheltered him with their bodies, until the words he _had_ ran out, fading into silence. He felt weak and drained, but still grounded, and warm, and . . . not alone.

He lay there, shivering occasionally, as Keith gently petted down his neck and back up to ruffle his hair, repeating the calming strokes over and over, steady and slightly mesmerising. Shiro was still, save for his breathing, but the heat of his body and the slow rhythm of _his_ breathing made it easier for Kuro to calm his own.

“Why- Why would you help me?” Kuro asked, curled in on himself a little. As much as he could, with Shiro lying along one side, and Keith’s legs stretched out at his other side. They refused to let him pull away from them. “Not just- But like this.”

“Because you needed us.” Shiro said softly, hugging him tighter, cheek pressing against his shoulder.

Keith kissed his brow. “Because we care about you.” he said, stroking Kuro’s cheek as he shifted to lie beside him again. “And you deserve to be taken care of.” He gently encouraged Kuro to lean against him, drawing Kuro’s right arm over his waist.

Kuro’s breath hitched, and he hid his face against Keith’s collarbone.

Shiro lightly kissed his shoulder, just at the base of his neck. “I understand,” he said quietly, and Kuro closed his eyes, feeling the heat of building tears, “and we will always be here for you.”

Kuro clung to Keith, who bore the tight hold easily, his breathing untroubled and his heartbeat steady, and pressed into Shiro’s embrace.


End file.
